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After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because there remains much to admire about you.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the magical illumination of lightning bugs amid cornfields on summer evenings and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

Were I drafting a farewell message to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" from delivery because of my paternal lineage and centuries of ancestors before him, commencing in the seventeenth century and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.

I experience deep honor in my family's history and their role in the national story. My dad grew up through economic hardship; his ancestor fought as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated a farm with nine children; his relative helped reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This is particularly true considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived within America a brief period and haven't visited for eight years. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and have no plans to live, work or study in the US again. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain U.S. citizenship.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing nor working there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed within travel documents.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to undertake every new year, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that ultimately American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas must fulfill obligations.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties could result in travel including extra worry regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Or, I might defer settlement until my estate handles it posthumously. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes an opportunity many newcomers desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait of Donald Trump, glowering at attendees at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and when the consular officer inquires about potential coercion, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I simply hope that future visa applications will be approved during potential return trips.